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I licked my lips, aware that my breathing had turned ragged from lust.
Then I gasped as he pressed himself slowly against my opening, while his lips plundered my mouth with another slow, heavy kiss.
He pushed himself inside me in one thrust and I arched backwards on the table, already lifting my hips in eager response.
“Yes,” I cried. "Draven, please. Yes."
He cupped me from below, lifting me more tightly against him then kissed me in a way both savage and tender, and thrust more deeply inside.
His hands were stroking my body, moving across my breasts, as his cock slid in and out of me, thrusting in a perfect rhythm.
I was aroused and soothed all at once, closing my eyes as he moved over me. His mouth found my breast, tugging my nipple into a turgid bud then flicking, and I let out a sharp gasp.
His hands held my wrists, pushing them behind my back, forcing my breasts more fully against his chest as he took me again and again.
“Look at you. Lips parted. Gasping for more.” His tone was utterly admiring and I gave a shiver of shame mingled with delight. But there was nothing demeaning about the words when he said them. “You want this, don’t you, Morgan? You want more and more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whimpered, feeding into the fantasy completely. “Fuck me on this table. I don’t care if anyone hears us.”
He gave a sharp thrust and I moaned loudly. It was true. I was too lost to be embarrassed. Laverna might have come and leaned on the counter and watched for all I fucking cared at this point.
“You’re fucking exquisite. You're gorgeous, Morgan. Do you hear me? You're a fucking beauty. And any man who ever tells you otherwise, will die a painful death should I ever hear them.” He bit my neck and I hissed with pleasure.
“You certainly love to kill, don’t you?” I writhed a little under him, enjoying the look in his eyes as he watched my breasts thrust upwards.
“I love to kill foryou,” he said, emphasizing the word before setting his mouth to one of my nipples and sucking hard.
He pushed into me again, then moved his mouth to mine, kissing me more fiercely than ever. He was close now, I could tell. I wrapped my legs around him, drawing him against me more tightly.
“Fuck,” he said hoarsely. His gorgeous emerald eyes glazed as he looked down at me, his beautiful lips parted slightly with pleasure and longing.
I raised my hands and grasped his horns, wrapping my hands around them, then pulling his head down towards mine and biting his lower lip so hard I could taste the blood.
He gave a guttural groan and then he was coming and I was coming with him. His mouth covered mine with a brutal desperation, teeth clashing, tongues twining. I arched hard, crying out as the climax tore through me. I felt him shudder over me, his broad chest rubbing against my breasts.
“You're mine,” he growled, as he set his mouth to my neck. “You're mine, Morgan. Here, now, always.” He bit down. “You were fucking made for me. Do you understand?”
I shifted against him, suddenly not able to look him in the eyes. The words set a new feeling shuddering through me. One I could not describe. There was a rightness to the words.
But more than that, a finality to them that I couldn’t help but rebel against.
If I was his, then was he mine? Did I dare lay claim to this warrior prince, this dark fae brute of a man with honor in his heart and fire in his veins?
And so I said nothing.
We dressed swiftly, pulling on our clothes.
I tried to change the subject. “Are you nervous for the next trial? What if it’s fenrirs? Or harpies? Do they have monsters like that here in Myntra?” I could hear myself babbling.
Draven shrugged as he tugged his trousers over his lean muscled thighs.
“Not really nervous, no. The most terrifying thing in the world isn’t monsters, Morgan. It’s other people.”
“You mean Avriel,” I shot back.
He grimaced. “Do you think I’m afraid of Avriel?”
“I don’t know. Are you? Maybe you should be. A little?”
